Over and out
by AmericanWildDog
Summary: What thoughts go through the mind right before everything they have once known goes to hell? Well it depends on what kind of hell you happen to be in. Rated for language. Little tidbits of what I imagine ran through the heads of certain characters before and during the war.


(I do not own Hellsing and I do not own any of the characters. I gain no profit from this at all. )

 **These are all little drabbles from various Hellsing characters before the war/London Blitz**

 **Pip**

They might all die tonight, him and the rest of the Geese. The very thought did not cross his mind for the very first time but he never truly took it as seriously as he should have, not until now that is. Now when a good portion of the mansion was in complete shambles and disarray. Now when he could hear the death cries of his own men over the transmitter. The cries and the tearing of flesh along with the cackling laughter of those German bastards and the sickening crunching sounds that he didn't even want to identify.

Despite what he told the rest of the lot bunkered up with him, Pip Bernadotte wasn't as confident that there actually _was_ a chance they would make it. Oh no, the chance that they would all perish here was quite high. Perish they would and they would perish with bellies pumped full of bullets while Nazi vampire fuckers feasted on their blood.

It was horrifying. Out of all the ways he could have predicted he would die, this scenario didn't come close. No scenario was so frightening.

He could tell his men all thought the same thing. Some sat in total silence, probably reflecting on all they've done with their lives. Others were quite vocal in their thoughts on their impending death and it had to be the most cowardly thing Pip had ever seen. Jack was still whimpering in the corner he had crawled to once Pip slapped some sense back into him. Pip was pretty sure he saw a few souls clasp their hand in a silent prayer.

Besides the sounds of dying men and sniveling boys Pip could pick up the familiar sounds of canon fire and the yells of shocked Battalion soldiers. The very last thing those krauts would hear was the shouts from their own group and the blast of a high-powered Harkonnen. The last thing they would see was the little blonde vampire wielding it, staring them all down with those spirited eyes of hers. Eyes that mimicked the very depths of hellfire.

Yes, some of the sounds made his stomach clench in dread. The dread was accompanied by thoughts of sharp monster teeth heading straight for his face.

But other sounds made him smile that roguish grin of his as he lit another cigarette. The only thoughts on his mind were a slim chance of a possible victory and a gentle smile from a vampire who was far too human to be fighting in a war like this.

* * *

 **Alucard**

If a regular man were stuck on this vessel they would have gone mad or simply have drowned themselves. All that surrounded him were the still-burning bodies of the SS members and the little miss Van Winkle impaled to the deck like some sort of macabre Jesus. So far he had only managed to make the ship move at a dead snail's pace but he got it moving nonetheless. Eerie mist that no human eye could ever penetrate was slowly surrounding it as it made its final journey.

The closer Alucard drifted to London the more scents he could pick up. The scent of hell was what he picked up more than anything. 'War is hell' some wise human once said didn't he? Oh how true that was.

Demons danced over the corpses of the fallen while burning fires made their playground complete. The righteous ones who claimed to be angels fell from heaven to exact revenge in the name of their Father. The true soldiers of the war stood watching as their enemies tore one another to shreds while they waited for him.

He made his presence known to the people he wanted to see the most before he got back to business. He caressed his Master's mind first, then Seras, and then Anderson. Yes, the true soldiers he would be sure to greet once he announced his dreaded presence to the rest..

Alucard could _taste_ the excitement in the air over his returning. A single deep breath confirmed everything for him. His master was in good health, as expected, for she was not helpless and never would be. He had kept his beautiful Master waiting longer than he wanted to. Seras had an aura of strength and newfound power surging around her. Alucard felt a pride swell in his chest. She had certainly grown from the timid little cop he brought home one night. Anderson was strangely distant. Perhaps the Judas priest had more to take care of before greeting his life-long rival. But like the rest he was waiting for him.

As he drew near he could sense his master and protégée perched on a roof overlooking the chaos the insane little Major had brought upon London. With a single mad grin and a newfound desire in him, Alucard prepared himself to finally exit the ship and arrive home.

* * *

 **Integra**

 _Where the hell is Walter?_ It never took him this long to complete a task or take care of an enemy. Yes Walter would often joke about 'feeling his age' and that his movements aren't what they were but there was no man as efficient as he was. Once he was given an order he would complete it with the upmost quality.

'Prepare the dining hall for a banquet.' He would do that and even fold the cloth napkins into swans without being asked! 'Kill every traitor in this room.' Walter did just that and he did it with enough time to light her cigarette right before they left.

She should have known something was different. Integra should have listened to the urgent tone in his voice. The eeriness and foreboding when he ordered her to drive away. God she should have come back for him…

Ever since she had left him to face that imposing and silent captain there had been a gnawing and ominous anxiety in the back of her mind. This wasn't the normal amount she usually had when something was amiss. Oh no, this one was much more urgent. It usually came when she had ignored an obvious problem for far too long. Soon the consequences of her ignorance would catch up and completely knock her off balance.

Normally she would consult Walter on such matters. The faithful butler often memorized and reminded her of any details she might have missed.

Now the Hellsing heiress felt the impending danger that her entire world was truly about to go up in flames along with London.

* * *

 **The Major**

It was music to his ears. Glorious and wonderful music fit for the Devil himself on his throne! Oh he was sure the Devil could hear the music The Major was orchestrating right now. How could he not? The screams of the dying were better than any symphony Mozart could produce. Beethoven didn't come close to the sublime sounds of rapid gunfire and roars of the bombs laying waste to the treasured landmarks of Britain. Nothing on this entire earth was sweeter than war cries from both sides as they destroyed each other and everything they once stood for all in the name of victory.

* * *

 **Zorin Blitz**

You know what they say about the best-laid plans of Mice and Men. Her original plan had been to come charging in here, slaughter every last piece of defense Hellsing had, take down the fledging bitch, and make it back to London before the rest of the Last Battalion had all the fun.

It appears that destiny and that fat major had enough of her and didn't want to bother with her anymore. To put it more simply, instead of dying in a battle surrounded by her men in the middle of an explosion, she was pinned to the floor by a enraged vampire girl who couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds soaking wet.

The grip Seras had on her face was as bone-crushing as the punches Zorin was landing on the girl's cranium. Just when Zorin thought she had finally jarred her she went right back down and bit off a good part of her hand and all of her fingers. Pain use to never bother her because it was only enhanced when coupled with fear. Zorin Blitz had prided herself on never being able to feel fear while in battle. Her mere stature was enough to send many battle-hardened men on their bellies in submission.

This was so foreign to the Nazi lieutenant. This fear that she might actually not make it out of this one. The little visit from that Schrodinger brat certainly didn't help to quell the dread or the knowledge that she was now considered dead as far as The Major was concerned. When the cat boy confirmed that her life would indeed end at the hands of Seras Victoria, Zorin felt the fear reach the highest possible levels they could reach.

She almost didn't even register the texture of the wall as Seras slammed her face against it and started to run forward.

* * *

 **Schrodinger**

The Major called it music and the Doc called it glorious madness. Schrodinger didn't think of it as anything. If he had an ounce of terror in him then he would have called it something. Since he could never truly die, he felt no fear. Humans and many other creatures gave things names when they couldn't understand it. For instance, sometimes he was called a freak of nature or a paradoxical sadist. The sadist part was a little rude.

So what if he laughed when a the soldiers tore the old generals to pieces or when Hellsing's pet made Rip Van Winkle suffer as he drained her blood. He got bored on the blimp so he watched whatever entertainment he could. Nothing wrong with that right?

The war currently taking place outside wasn't as entertaining as he thought it should be. It looked the same as any old war The Major had described. He would never voice that out loud though. Or else the Major might try to lecture him again. This way he at least got to watch the show. Ever since Zorin had been killed, he had been forced to find something else to amuse him until the big finale.

Schrödinger wouldn't be bored for long though. As people died in horrible manner and the Major continued to pretend he was actually an orchestrator for this event then the cat-boy would wait patiently like a good junior officer.

 _I wonder how the Doc is doing with his newest creation?_

* * *

 **Yumie**

 _This is what you've trained for._ _Every moment of your life has been preparing you for something just like._

 _A war. A war of the false gods._

 _False gods that you will strike down in the name of the Holy King of kings._

 _Amen._

"And I will do just that." Yumie told herself in such a quiet voice that no one else heard her speak. She would cut down every last heathen and heretic with her sword and send their rotten souls deep into hell where they belonged. The young nun was joined with her comrade, Heinkel, and the rest of the Iscariot Section 13. As one Holy force they would carry out the work that God could not do.

God had more important matters to take care of. One of them would be sorting through the souls that she was about to deliver to his Holy Grace.

Maxwell told them to keep on eye on things but not to interfere. If that was the case, why in the name of heaven and hell was Alexander Anderson, the man who had raised her, taught her, trained her, and given her the orders to serve in the name of The Pope and God, saving the Protestant wretch Integra Hellsing?

Perched with Heinkel on the rooftop behind them, they watched in up-most silence while the closest man they had for a real father, killed the Nazi vampires and confronted the Hellsing Leader.

Oh yes this is exactly what she had been taught to do. Integra Hellsing might have been a heretic but if Alexander Anderson saw fit to keep her alive, solely to defeat her later on, then she would uphold his command and do the rest of God's work in reverence.

No matter what, she was a servant of God to wield as he wanted before anything else. As long as Heinkel and Alexander were with her she could never see herself losing hope or faith in her abilities. Come hell or high water this war would only end after she had successfully put down every last abomination of God's earth into the pits of hell.

* * *

 **Alexander Anderson**

It was no wonder at all the Vampire demon king served the Hellsing woman. Who could turn away from the power and strength she eluded and the respect she demanded with a single icy stare. The likes of the Nazis would never have lasted if they had truly faced her and her ranks in a real war. Such weak and spineless lumps of waste they all were.

Oh but the way she confronted them! Calling them out and daring them to take a step forward. She was right though; they never should have underestimated humanity. It was the likes of humanity that was about to finally put them in their graves for good.

By the will of his blade and the drive for battle in his system, Anderson cut down the first Nazi that leaped at her. As soon as their fellow freak hit the ground in a pile of crumbling bones, the rest of the Nazis trembled as much as they allowed themselves too.

The Hit Man

Angel Dust

The Judas Priest

Bayonet Anderson

Off-with-your-head Anderson

The Killing Judge

Father Alexander Anderson had finally arrived to reap eternal damnation on the devils that dared to call themselves invincible. He had arrived to proclaim that no one was allowed to defeat Hellsing except for him and the Iscariot! These swastika-covered insects didn't even deserve to be called an enemy! Hellsing deserved a truly worthy opponent, as did the Vatican.

As soon as he took care of the bastards behind him then he would turn his focus to the more worthy enemy.

* * *

 **Sir Penwood**

Sir Shelby Penwood was a lot things. The list went as such: a Round Table member, an admiral, a loving husband, a father, and a soon-to-be-grandfather. He was also a flustering coward and a yellow-bellied commander. Ever since his youth he had never seen the point in denying the obvious. It made the insults thrown at him easier to deal with.

It also made his rise to power into a prestigious and demanding position such a shock. Him? A commander for a naval fleet? No one questioned the decision to put him in charge more than Penwood himself. To think that someone as incompetent as him would be given command of a naval army. A craven like Shelby Penwood didn't deserve that honor.

Yes he was a craven. He was also loyal until his last breath. He was loyal to England, Queen, and Country. He was loyal to Arthur Hellsing and, by extension, Integra Hellsing.

She had grown so much from that young slip of a girl who upfront told him to never _call_ her 'little girl' ever again. Out of every one who scorned him she could be the most condescending. Criticizing him and acting like a mother scolding her child for not standing up for himself.

Integra only ever spoke directly to him when she visited the Naval fleet offices and control room. The rest of his men would shout at her and try to get a peg above her. He was the only one who knew the best way to speak to her was to put yourself on her level. For that reason she hardly ever acknowledged the rest of them and only granted her attention solely to Penwood. He could still recall the smirk she gave him when he had asked her what she had done to the ghost ship as soon as it burst into flames.

She was her father's daughter through and through.

 _It's been a privilege Integra._

…

-The last of his men had just shot himself after giving a final salute. Everything was in place and ready to be set off. All that was left were the guests of honor.

-Despite everything, it had been one hell of a joyride.


End file.
